Of Madmen and Lords
by SampsonDemonte
Summary: Harry's sixth year is far from expected, as he is confronted with a new DADA professor, shifting allies, and the realization that not everything is black and white.  Slash
1. A Dark Art

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It was not until five minutes into the first lesson of the term before the students of Hogwarts saw their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Harry was among these privileged few who would get to gloat about being the first class to discover the identity of their mysterious teacher. He sat in the middle of the room; not too close yet not too far away. He, like many of the other students, did not have high hopes for this teacher. (Although, anything was better than the cow Umbridge.) Chatter of skipping started when the minute hand reached five past the hour.

Suddenly the noise dropped into silence. Out of nowhere, as if he appeared from air, the professor stood at the front of the class. His stance was lax, and he wore a warm smile. His presence was inoffensive and his features common. Average nose, over an average mouth, situated on an average face above an average frame, completed with neatly cut averagely brown hair. The kind of person you would walk by on the street and never notice.

"Hello class. I am this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Adolphus Nero. Forgive me for my tardiness. I do understand the impatience of youth. However, I ask that you rid your minds of teenage drivel and force yourselves to focus within these classroom walls. From what I understand, your previous teachers have been less than satisfactory. I hope that you have not lost sight of the importance in learning the Defense Against the Dark Arts. We live in a rather…precarious world. It would be a shame if your lives were to end because this class is nothing but a joke to you. There is little time to waste, so I will ask you all to open your text books to page 105. Skipping the rubbish the author has the gall to label as an introduction, we will begin with theory."

His voice flowed smoothly through the room with a slight lilt - the cause of smiles on a few girls' faces. The class obediently flipped to the requested page and intently listened to the man's lecture. The entire class seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Professor Nero seemed educated, experienced, and a step up from their previous instructor. It was more than anyone could have hoped for, and the professor's calm yet focused demeanor was contagious. That is to say for all but one student who sat in the middle of the room.

Harry should have been happy. No mention of his fame, embarrassing or hostile. Neither was the professor incompetent. And yet Harry could not help but sit completely still, feeling tense and distrustful, similar to a threatened animal unable to decide whether to run or strike. No one but Harry noticed the professor's eyes. With a sharp pang, he realized that he had seen those same eyes on his late godfather. They were of an inoffensive brown hue, but he saw the haunted and crazed look of a madman. Harry thought the orbs to look out of place on the man until he saw the telltale twitch - a muscle spasm in his right cheek. Behind the persona he put on display for the class, there was a wicked man that only Harry saw. A shiver ran down his spine as he listened to the lecture. That lilt was dangerous, he was sure.

Harry was beyond relieved when the class finally dismissed. They would be starting practice of the shielding charms of which the lecture had been about. Of course this should have been covered last year, but useful knowledge was not high on Umbridge's list. He slipped out, even before Ron who was notorious for being the first out of any classroom. He waited a second before Ron and Hermione joined him. Hermione started her annual assessment of the new teacher.

"Well, I am glad we finally have a respectable professor. I was extremely worried we were going to have to deal with another year of total…crap."

"Real eloquent there," Harry teased. Harry received a nudge from Hermione while Ron joined in.

"He was alright. Not at all exciting. I wonder if he would let us get away with coming in five minutes late every day? It would only be fair."

"Your ambition is astounding, Ron." Hermione dead toned. "Why I even bother with you is beyond me."

Harry simply smiled and let the two banter, not wanting to offer up his own opinion about the new professor. He did not wish to sound paranoid so early in the term. He would just be on the lookout for anything suspicious.


	2. Snippets of Life

A week passed, and Harry's life fell into the familiar rhythm that Hogwarts provided. Snape was as foul as ever, Professor McGonagall was still the strictest member on staff, and Flitwick had not grown an inch (not that anyone had expected him to). On the other hand, Malfoy had yet to harass him (although Ron had experienced a nasty spat with him earlier that week) and he still did not trust their new Defense professor. There was just something about the man that made Harry feel uneasy.

As a matter of fact, the Golden Trio was chatting over dinner on that very topic.

"He's too serious," Ron exclaimed through a mouthful of potatoes. "What house do you reckon he was in?"

"Ravenclaw, would be my guess," Hermione offered. "He's extremely intelligent. Maybe Slytherin. He's hard to read, isn't he?"

"Well, he doesn't seem the type to buy into Slytherin propaganda," Ron contradicted.

"You only say that because you can't bear the thought of someone decent belonging to Slytherin," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "What do you think, Harry?"

"Do we even know he went to Hogwarts?"

"You don't have to sound so suspicious." Hermione seemed to have picked up on Harry's hostility towards Professor Nero.

"He's just too…unobtrusive to be harmless."

"That makes absolutely no sense. He's the type to have a completely uninteresting life working a boring desk job with a plain-Jane wife and 2.5 kids. What's there to worry about?" Ron wondered.

"But he's here, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I'm positive he's hiding something," Harry insisted.

"I think you're just being paranoid," Ron commented before attacking his dinner once more.

Hermione looked thoughtful but didn't say anything, even when Harry gave her a questioning look.

**

* * *

**

Professor Nero was a firm believer in hands-on learning, so the students in Defense Against the Dark Arts were very enthusiastic about attending class. Where else could they get away with shooting curses at each other for the sake of education? Even Harry had to admit that DADA was the most interesting class on his schedule. But it was in these practical lessons that he began to notice that his magic was harder to control.

He performed the spells exceptionally well, to the point that it was scaring him. He had always known he had a knack for Defense, but he was mastering spells he had never seen on the first try. Desperate to keep the attention off of him, he put all of his concentration onto toning down the power that seemed to rush out of his wand. He spent most of the lessons watching his fellow students as to determine how much he should pull back his ability. It was becoming frustrating, especially as he noticed that this was true for his other subjects as well. (Except potions, which Harry was not the least bit surprised about.) The last thing he wanted was to pique someone's interest in his ability, and Hermione had already started shooting him questioning glances. Perhaps he'd eventually confess to her so she could scoff at him and offer a reason behind the strange development.

**

* * *

**

The Golden Trio was strolling along the bank of the lake, taking a break from their studies. It was early Saturday afternoon and the grounds looked as peaceful as ever. Hermione had a small tome tucked in her pocket, relaying her impatience at being separated from her assignment.

"I don't understand how you can study for more than an hour at a time, 'Mione," Ron complained.

"Simple. I don't have a pea for a brain," she shot back, clearly annoyed at how Ron had whined until she finally gave into the idea of a break. Harry just rolled his eyes as Ron spluttered a retort.

Out of the corner of his eye Harry spotted unmistakable blonde hair. Malfoy was studying by himself out on the Hogwarts grounds. The boy had been uncharacteristically quiet. It was almost worrisome, although the optimistic part of him rationed that the boy had merely grown tired of their childish rivalry.

As if sensing Harry's gaze, the blonde turned his head, catching Harry's eye. Harry dipped his head in acknowledgement, a faraway look still gracing his features. Malfoy slowly cocked his head before turning back to his studies.

Odd, Harry thought. He had expected more of a reaction. Without warning he headed back to the castle, a sputtering Ron and smug Hermione following suit.

* * *

"Mr. Potter, if you would not mind, I would like to speak with you."

Harry was just about to leave the DADA room when his professor called after him. He had no choice but to nod and walk up to Professor Nero's desk.

"This past month I have been …assessing your skills. While I have done my best to treat you equally, I admit, it has been a pleasure to meet you. I cannot help but to acknowledge your skill. You have…impressed me, Mr. Potter, a feat not easily done."

"Professor, I am performing no better or worse than any of my classmates. There's nothing to be impressed with."

"And that's where you're wrong, child. For all that you try to keep the attention averted from you – I can see, Mr. Potter, your capabilities, your power. I do not know to what extent you hide your talent, but from what I have seen…

"I would like to offer you private lessons. Just you and I, to provide a sanctuary where you can release, cultivate, and mature your talent hidden away from the judgmental, jealous eyes of your class mates. Not to mention that I have a well of information that some would die to get a hold of. I might be willing to share a few pieces for the benefit of our world."

Harry was speechless. He was still weary and distrustful of Professor Nero. Especially considering the fiasco with Professor Moody in fifth year. And yet…if his professor was sincere, he could be properly trained by a qualified wizard. It was an opportunity that Dumbledore had neglected him. True, Professor Nero reeked of darkness – the more he studied the man, the more certain Harry was that this man had an unspeakable past – but if he could attain the knowledge he needed and maybe even twist Nero to his use…

"Thank you, Professor. I am honored by the offer and would like to start as soon as possible."


	3. A Propensity to Learn

Harry approached the door with caution, tentatively placing his hand on the door handle. Solidifying his resolve, he pushed the door open to be greeted with the sight of his professor calmly marking essays. He momentarily cursed his stupidity for forgetting to knock, but it wasn't as if he were unexpected.

"Mr. Potter."

The words were silky, and Harry couldn't help but to feel dirtied as his name slid past smirking lips.

Feeling rather uncomfortable, Harry shifted his weight, wondering how the lesson would unfold.

"Did you bring your text?"

A heavy book was pulled out of his satchel in response.

"I believe we will start with where we are in the class and move on from there."

While Harry hadn't been expecting a tutoring session, he nodded, ready to demonstrate the shielding spell specialized in evisceration curses that had been taught earlier that day.

After a simple test to make sure he was indeed able to perform the incantation, and rather effortlessly so, a twisted smile spread across Nero's face.

"Moving onto more important matters, let's begin with the basic evisceration curse that, while easily blocked, has the capability of doing a bit of damage on the battlefield."

Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion – certainly the curse shouldn't be taught at Hogwarts. Nevertheless, he submitted to his increasingly dangerous professor and his questionable lesson plan.

* * *

A comfortable routine had been established for his extra lessons with Professor Nero, although Harry had yet to find the lessons themselves comforting. Actually, they were quite unnerving. Nero would observe him with scrutiny as he would practice the material. And really, Harry felt he should be rather uncomfortable with the amount of dark magic he was being taught. But magic was magic and when it came down to it, he was willing to perform a bit of dark if it meant lives would be saved.

* * *

"Harry, pay attention!" Hermione viciously hissed from his left. For the umpteenth time, Harry felt his head snap upwards as he attempted to stay awake. It wasn't his fault that the lengthening private lessons were cutting into the time he would normally use for studying, resulting in late night cramming. Alright, maybe it was his fault, but he'd covered this material two weeks ago.

When it came time to practice the spell, Harry carelessly flicked his wand, succeeding in both casting the tracking charm and shutting Hermione up. As he proceeded to attempt sleeping with his eyes open, he noticed Hermione studying him cautiously after successfully casting on her third try.

* * *

"The general consensus amongst the staff is that while your performance is stable, your ability to focus in class is diminishing. The bags under your eyes are rather telling. Perhaps it would be best to shorten these lessons."

It was indeed true that what had started as 3 hours a week had nearly tripled in length. But the more knowledge he acquired, the more Harry felt the world's weight bear down on his shoulders. There was so much to learn that the general curriculum couldn't provide – information that Professor Nero was offering him on a silver platter. Chewing the bottom of his lip, Harry reluctantly nodded. Perhaps sleeping through his classes wasn't the best course of action.

"Perhaps…I would be willing to offer a few hours on the weekend. We wouldn't want our boy hero to die before saving the world."

Harry blinked at the callous mention of his fate. It wasn't spiteful like Snape's comments on his status as resident-Dark-Lord-slayer, but rather blasé in a way that made the entire prospect seem ludicrous. Cracking a smile and forgetting that he disliked his professor, he replied.

"You mean I won't defeat Voldemort by transfiguring him into a tea kettle?" which earned him a rather toothy and fervent smile.

* * *

The tutoring sessions became…he had to admit…fun. Harry, naturally talented in Defense Against the Dark Arts, picked up the material with surprising speed. Even Professor Nero was shocked at the rate the lessons progressed. The two managed to develop a working relationship peppered with bouts of dark humor. Sure, the man knew too much, but Harry long forgot his suspicions about the professor and looked to him as a mentor. He had never felt more confident. It was November and he had almost made it through the seventh year DADA material. He was a little worried that the lessons would stop once he made it through the large tome, but he did not let it bother him. All in all life was going extremely well for one Harry Potter.

But that was when the dreams started, and Harry found that his happiness was rather short lived.


	4. Daydreaming

Harry knew it was wrong. His professor was not even a marvel to look at. Not ugly, not by a long shot. But he was so incredibly ordinary that his dreams should have skipped over him as a candidate. His features were so common that just the thought of his professor should not have caused Harry's heart to skip a beat. If he was going to have perverse desires, he thought it could be for at least someone devilishly handsome. How was he at all going to live with the fact that he was lusting after a much older man? (Although it was impossible to tell by how much) And a man! He was not even…gay. He certainly had not thought twice about any other of the males in the school.

It was still early, so Harry remained in his bed, his back against the headboard and his face between his knees. He could not recall when the dreams had started exactly, just that he had awaken the first time in a cold sweat, a look of complete shock and horror on his face. It was not horror so much at the prospect of feeling for his professor - or else he certainly would not have dreamt of him - but at the situation. How would his friends react if they were to ever know? What would his parents think of him had they been alive? What about Sirius?

As for the attraction, although he refused to acknowledge it, Harry had an idea as to why he was so inexplicably drawn to him. Professor Nero was smart, mysterious, and knew just how to handle Harry. He felt as if they clicked, despite their rather shaky start. And Harry knew that despite outward appearances, there was something inconceivably great about the professor. Something extremely dangerous. Harry knew he would never be able to guess who or what his professor truly was, but he hoped, rather pathetically in his own opinion, that he would one day be privy to such information.

Harry sat in the darkness, simultaneously attempting to remember and forget his latest dream. How he wished he could be held, touched, stroked…fucked… Harry's face heated as he recalled the blurred features of his professor doing wicked things to his body. In an attempt to forget, he frowned in thought, contemplating why it was that his dream version of the professor was so washed out. It could have been any physically fit man had it not been for the piercing gaze that Harry knew to belong to Nero. No other human had the ability to completely derail him with merely a glance. Harry was still convinced that there was something mysterious about Professor Nero's eyes. They seemed far off, as if belonging to a different person - and yet the brown orbs matched, another common feature to add to the normality of the face. The man was so strange…

Harry's thoughts were cut off as he heard Dean make a rude comment about Seamus' mess. Grunting, Harry abandoned his thoughts and proceeded to prepare for the day.

* * *

"You have detention, _again_? What did you do this time?" Ron exclaimed in exasperation. "How is all your free time filled with detentions or tutoring sessions or those…brain lessons with Snape?"

"I haven't taken occulemency in years. And I can't help the detentions. It's not my fault that I got yelled at because Bulstrode assaulted me." Harry said, very much distracted. He still had not told his friends that he was taking private lessons with Professor Nero.

"Fine, fine. Good luck cleaning cauldrons. I'm going to annoy some first years then." Ron lumbered off.

"I hope you're kidding!" Hermione called after. She turned to Harry. "That excuse was awful. I would be offended if I didn't know that you were only concerned with ditching Ron. When are you going to tell me what you're up to?"

"Not now, I really have to go."

Harry hurried off while Hermione gave a big sigh as she walked off in the direction of the library.

* * *

"Harry? I really need to talk to you." Hermione's soft voice was barely heard in the busy common room. No one noticed the pair leave the Gryffindor tower to make it to the Room of Requirement. Fearing the worst, Harry started questioning the girl.

"Did something happen? Are you ok? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Harry, calm down. Nothing like that." She looked amused as she watched a light blush form on Harry's cheeks.

"Er…right. You know I worry."

"I know. It's sweet. I needed to tell you something strange - Malfoy offered me help in potions if I would tutor him in arithmancy. He was polite about it and potions _is_ my weakest subject, so I agreed to meet up with him after class to work out a schedule. And here's where it gets weirder. When we met, he told me that as the smartest witch in our year, and I should be careful who I let utilize my talents. It sounded as if he wanted me on his side, which is absolutely ridiculous because I'm no pureblood. I told him as much and he replied with "Not everything is as it seems" in that superior tone he uses. He went on to say that blood isn't the issue, but he wouldn't offer any more information. So I'm just confused and suspicious, but I'm meeting him in the library next Tuesday."

"Stranger things have happened. And he's been awfully quiet this semester. Let me know how it goes."

Hermione nodded before giving Harry a sharp look. Knowing the look, Harry sheepishly looked through his bangs before giving her an answer.

"I've been getting lessons from Professor Nero."

"That's it? You've been so secretive about private lessons?"

Harry fidgeted. "His curriculum is…unorthodox. Although, when you put it like that…"

Hermione just snorted before giving him a quick side hug. "You worry too much," she commented rather endearingly.

* * *

Harry was excited and nervous - his stomach felt nauseous. He hadn't eaten because he was so full of anticipation and worry. He knew he was being pathetic, like a lovesick first year. (Although for all his experiences with relationships and girls he might as well have been.) He cursed his professor for informing him a week ago that they were going to start physical combat as part of their training. A week to dwell on how his skin would feel against Professor Nero's. To daydream about how his professor would stand behind him, guiding his movements as he was taught some ancient art of combat. To envision how they would spar and end up in a tangled embrace, so Harry could feel every curve of his professor's body against him…

Before he was ready, Harry was standing outside of Professor Nero's office. He was slightly flushed and still completely a nervous wreck. And all too soon, the two were standing across from each other, ready to start their lesson.

"I am not much of a professional fighter. I could not tell you the names of the maneuvers I will teach you nor will I guide you in any certain style. What I do know is how to protect myself against an enemy with vigor, agility, and physical power – all without a wand in hand. I am confident in my ability – if you can learn to defeat me, you will never be caught helpless. Let's begin."

Harry was surprised at his normally humble teacher's cockiness, but after five minutes he understood why. Nero was evasive, impossibly lithe and completely unmanageable to pin. Harry was so frustrated with his inability to so much as reach his professor that he long forgot his nervousness. The two practiced for nearly an hour with Harry as the aggressor – Harry only managed to snag the corner of his professor's robes once. The next hour was spent with Professor Nero as the aggressor. Nero was ruthless although a charm prevented him from actually harming Harry. The lesson was brutal. Harry was expected to learn by example rather than be taught the moves one by one. By the end of the two hours Harry was feeling exhausted, helpless, and dejected. How was he expected to learn all of this without any time to react?

The two sat on the floor at the end of the lesson. Harry was completely out of breath while Nero sat calm and collected having barely broken a sweat.

"You did better than I expected."

"How…It was awful…"

"You expect too much of yourself. But I presume that's what makes you push so hard. And you are learning; your body is absorbing the movements, one by one. Before long you will be a formidable opponent." Nero stood up. "Don't look so dejected. I was subjected to the same lesson, and I did far worse than you."

Nero offered Harry his hand, which Harry took without pause. Professor Nero's hands were cool and comforting as Harry's hot and sweaty palms were embraced. A slight pull upwards and Harry was standing on his feet. Harry swore he could feel his professor's heart beat through their brief contact, and after a quick goodnight, Harry shakily walked out of the room. All the emotions that he had forgotten for the past two hours rushed back at once as his face flushed a deep red and his heart sped up. Like a silly, smitten girl, he curled his fingers and held his loosely clenched fist against his thigh as he imagined soft skin against his own, followed by a light clench, as his professor had done only minutes before.


	5. Slight Mishaps

"The faggot! Did you see the way he was looking at that greasy git! Disgusting!"

"Now Ron. You don't know anything," Hermione interjected.

"I know the way Malfoy was practically undressing that bastard! It makes my skin crawl! I always figured that ferret was bent, but with Snape?"

"Ron! You don't have any proof and you know what a rumor like that could do!"

"Good. They both deserve it."

"What do you mean, 'Mione?" Harry butted in, curious. The conversation was quite understandably making him uncomfortable.

Instead of answering, Hermione shot him a look that translated to something along the lines of 'we'll talk later so shut up.' Ignoring the warning, Harry continued.

"What's wrong with being gay?"

Ron gave him an odd look. "How wouldn't it be? It's disgusting and disgraceful."

"What if…"A sharp jerk of Hermione's head and pleading eyes from behind Ron's line of sight caused Harry to stop.

Ron was still giving him a strange look.

"Um…nothing. I was just, you know, wondering because…I've never heard anything about… homosexuality in the wizarding world. And I wanted to know if it was different here than in the muggle world…I think I remember Dudley saying something about…er…homos…Not that it's important, but since we're on the topic…," Harry rather pathetically attempted to cover himself. It sounded bad to his ears, and he inwardly cringed.

Fortunately, Ron wasn't the most socially astute individual, so he dropped the strange stare.

"I forgot that you wouldn't really know. I've heard stories about muggles and how awfully backwards and crude they can be about this stuff. (Harry wondered to himself what stories were circulating, considering that he spent his childhood hearing Uncle Vernon yelling and cursing about those 'revolting faggots' and 'their shameful, unnatural lifestyle.') It's an abomination to be gay. Completely perverse. Even worse than becoming dark, if you ask me. There's speculation that it's a disease or something, and it's common belief that faggots should be put down, hospitalized, or imprisoned. I forget how naïve you are, Harry. And you don't have to look so sick. The authorities handle everything, unlike those muggle folk – no worries about getting infected. Now, if only I could turn Malfoy in…"

"Ron! You will do no such thing! That's beyond cruel!" Hermione cut Ron off.

"A perfect fate for the pompous ass," Ron shot back.

The conversation shifted directions after Ron reluctantly promised Hermione not to extract revenge in such a manner.

Later on that day, Hermione cornered Harry in an abandoned hallway.

"What was that about? Are you trying to get socially ostracized!"

"I…was curious. I couldn't help it?" Harry meekly replied.

"I know you are ignorant of some of this world's customs, but I had hoped you would have realized the dangerous territory the conversation was heading to!"

"I'm sorry, but I _had_ to know," Harry responded, the words desperate.

"Harry? Don't say stuff like that. _Please_ tell me my deductions are misguided…_please_…"

"Do you…are you…what do you think about homosexuality?" Harry stumbled, praying that she wouldn't react as Ron had.

"You're talking to the girl who rallied for the rights of house elves – of course I think it's absurd how they treat homosexuality. Harry, I'm just scared of the words I think are going to come out of your mouth."

"I…don't think I'm gay…" Hermione's expression started to fall into that of relief.

"But, I…can't get...someone – this man…out of my head. I dream of him 'Mione…and I would do anything to relieve this pain that I feel for him…" Harry finished.

Hermione looked near tears. "I'm so sorry, Harry. That's…enough for this world to do horrible things to you."

"I…kind of gathered that."

"We'll talk more about it, but we're already late for dinner."

The solemn pair made their way to the Great Hall, although neither could hold an appetite.

* * *

"Professor?" Harry tentatively called out. It was the usual time the two would meet in order to have their lessons, and yet the professor was nowhere in sight. He walked further into the professor's office, feeling as if he were intruding despite having been in there several times. The atmosphere felt off and Harry stomach filled with a jittery nervousness. Where was his professor? He had never been late to their lessons before. He shifted awkwardly on his feet while standing in the middle of the room. He figured he might as well wait. His best friends would not be expecting him back for another 2 hours due to his rapidly accumulating "detentions." (He knew it was a lame excuse, but Ron was buying it.)

He looked down at his watch. It had been nearly 10 minutes and his professor still had not arrived. He considered sitting down, but did not act on it for another 5 minutes. Finally, boredom won out and he moved to sit behind the professor's desk. Rude, yes, but the bare room presented no better option.

Harry only made it a few steps before he noticed somebody fallen behind the large desk. It was still except for the tremors that swept the body every few seconds. The silence in the room became stifling as Harry rushed to the body's side, fearing it was his professor - knowing it was none other than his professor. Nero's face was twisted in pain, eyes screwed shut and mouth stretched open in a silent scream. Harry clamored beside his favorite professor, wanting to help but too afraid to touch him. The situation was vaguely reminiscent of his nightmares sent by Voldemort. Would he cause more harm if he tried to wake his professor? He considered running to get Professor Dumbledore or Madam Promfrey, but that would mean leaving. If only he could send someone! Frustrated and panicked, he hovered over the professor, hands barely touching his face and shoulder. He needed to do something! His hands finally fell to the skin. The professor was freezing despite the sweat rolling down his face and plastering his hair. Harry quickly jerked off his cloak and laid it over the tremor wracked body, hoping to alleviate the chill. He used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off Nero's face.

In a moment of weakness, Harry let his fingers trail over the face, gently cupping Nero's cheek. If only he was allowed to do this when Nero was awake…His heart clenched for a moment before fading into nothingness. Harry felt numb and he crinkled his brow in bewilderment at the droplets that seemed to be falling from his own face. Was he crying? He felt so useless, staring down at his professor who was in obvious pain without any noticeable cause. He was being selfish, touching his professor like a lover - he had to get help.

Harry pulled his hands away and made to stand up. He did not make it far before a gasp of shock escaped his lips. He jolted in surprise as his professor jerked into a sitting position, nearly smashing his head into Harry's own. Barely inches separated their noses, and Harry's eyes widened as his face flushed in embarrassment.

"Are you…? I'm sorry for intruding, I was just about to get help…I was…" Harry trailed off as a shaky finger came up to his lips to silence him.

"Don't mention…anyone…please" Professor Adolphus croaked, his voice raw. "Give…one minute…"

Harry nodded and sat back, watching as his professor closed his eyes, his body rigid. Silence reined for several minutes until Nero's body sagged then rightened. The whole room's aura seemed to change, and Professor Nero outwardly appeared as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened. Eyes opened and the professor sent a piercing look towards Harry.

"Mister Potter, I must ask that what you have witnessed does not leave this room. I am placing a great deal of trust in you in this matter."

"What exactly did happen, Professor." Harry knew he could be crossing a line by asking, but he trusted the solidarity of their relationship.

A pensive look crossed Nero's face before he looked deep into Harry's eyes. Harry felt a chill run down his spine from the intensity of the gaze.

"I seem to have made some enemies." A twisted smile graced his common features, and for that moment Harry felt a twinge of fear. Nero looked crazed, the effect completed by hair in total disarray and pale, sickly skin. "The world is burning and it seems we are all smoldering alongside."

Harry turned his head to escape the intensity of the moment. He knew he would get no answers, and the mystery surrounding his professor increased tenfold.

"I believe I should call it a night. Forgive me for the lack of lesson, but I promise to make it up to you, alright? You look like you could use some sleep too, don't you say?" Professor Nero said it all with a smile, all traces of the madman erased from his features.

"It's not a problem, sir. I do hope everything is ok."

"I appreciate the concern, but there is no need. Goodnight, Potter."

Harry walked out and made his way slowly through the castle to his dorms. He was in a daze as he replayed the whole encounter in his head. He was beyond curious, but he knew he could not pry without offending Professor Nero. Damn the man for being so private!

It was not until Harry reached the Gryffindor portrait that he stopped in sudden realization. How had he not noticed before? His professor's eyes had not been the average, not to be noticed shade of brown. They had been the most peculiar shade of blue, lucid and cold. Demented eyes that spoke of pain and anger with more than a dash of rabid insanity. And Harry realized that he had never seen anything more intriguing or, dare he say it, beautiful.

Adding the change in eye color to his ever growing list of oddities about his professor, Harry resumed his trek to his dormitory. Not knowing anything about Professor Nero was driving him insane, so he figured he might as well sleep to forget it all. At least in his dreams, his professor made him incapable of thinking rather than adding to the buzz in his brain.


	6. From a Different Perspective

**A few words**: Just a quick thanks to everyone who has read my story and to those who have been kind enough to leave reviews. :)

I feel the need to note: I realize the story is slightly AU - I'm leaving books 1-5 as an ambiguous shady history that I don't feel the need to expound upon. Also, I realize characters are...not at all canon. Just as a heads up, if the thought hasn't already crossed your mind.

I actually have a decent amount of the story written, albeit rather unsequentially. So, updates shouldn't be that hard for me to muster. I know how painful it is to read a story you arn't sure will ever be finished, so just thought I'd reassure those who decide to stick with.

And onward ho! :)

* * *

"I'm impressed, Mr. Potter. We should have Seventh year Defense material finished before Yule."

Harry attempted to control the warmth seeping from his chest at the praise.

"Perhaps we could start something…more interesting. Animagus, advanced stealthing charms, a few curses that you may find use of on the battle field?"

Harry's eyes brightened at the prospect. Indeed, he would love to continue, especially if he would gain such valuable knowledge. And to think he was expected to face Voldemort with fingers crossed and a ministry approved curriculum!

* * *

Hermione ran into the Gryffindor common room, eyes bright and determined. She easily spotted Harry lounging in front of the fire with a questionable book on his lap. Without warning she grabbed his hand and pulled the surprised boy out of the tower.

"You've got to hear this, Harry! I was just talking to Malfoy, and I can't believe the stuff coming from his mouth! I don't know whether to be skeptical or shocked or elated or…but he suggested you should know as well, which I completely agree with. And I told him I could find you easily, which I did.."

Harry complacently followed, curiosity getting the best of him. Slipping into an empty classroom, the two saw Draco Malfoy calmly writing what appeared to be a letter. The blonde put away the parchment before looking up.

"So glad you could join us, Potter." There was a surprising lack of sarcasm in the words.

"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure." Harry replied while Hermione rolled her eyes. Taking it as a cue, Malfoy jumped into the topic without warning.

"As I was relaying to Hermione, it isn't about blood. It's about tradition and culture. Before Hogwarts was founded, it wasn't an issue because muggleborns that made it to the wizarding world were introduced when they were extremely young, or not at all. Those who made it into the wizarding world were usually abandoned by their families in early childhood and adopted into so called pureblood families. A few rituals later, the child would belong to the family in all but birth. Muggleborns adopted by our families wielded a significant amount of power - otherwise their accidental magic would not have been noticed and feared by their families. True, this wasn't always the case and powerful children lived without knowing what caused them to be different, but it worked out for the most part. Most muggleborns didn't even realize they had magic, and those who did made business of it. No harm done to either world because such businesses were limited to simple charms, fortune telling, or medicines.

"Back to the issue of blood purity, most pureblood families aren't at all pure because of the sheer number of muggleborns that were brought into our world in such a fashion. And if you want to get really philosophical, the first wizards had to appear from somewhere, which makes me think they were born from muggles as the earth's magic started to manifest in humans. But that's mere speculation.

"Once Hogwarts was built, any muggleborn could attend a boarding school that would expose them to our world. Children of lesser power were sent letters as long as they showed a sliver of accidental magic. Look at our class now - nearly half are muggleborn. None knew of our world until they turned 11. An age young enough to teach them our knowledge, but old enough to bring to our world muggle prejudices and fears. To add to that, the children were, and still are, connected to their muggle world. It would have been cruel to rip muggleborns away from their families, but the introduction of muggle ideas tore apart the wizarding world. It turned into a struggle between those who wished to keep the worlds separate and those who wished for our world accept new ideas. New ideas responsible for the fear of so called dark magic and magical creatures.

"Muggles in particular are prejudiced because they are raised with limitations. Those raised from birth surrounded by magic learn to accept anything as a possibility. We are taught the true nature of magic and to respect it. We practice magics that have not been legal for centuries because _they_ fear what they do not understand. We are taught to accept what we cannot know and to utilize what knowledge we are given access to. Notice that what we are taught in school, "light magic," always has a theory, an explanation, a clear-cut end result, and no side-effects. The Malfoy library is filled with tomes that speak of magics that blow my mind. Earth magic, emotion magic, wandless magic, family specific magics such as your parsletongue, blood rituals, and the like. In reality there is no dark or light magic. Such labeling is merely Ministry propaganda fueled by the fear of the Old magics. This "progressive" agenda has left the wizarding world weak. There is no sense of community because we introduce single units with no blood ties. Our world is dumped with strangers every year, all of who will fuel the fear. They don't see that the beauty of magic is that it isn't meant to be understood or categorized. That we should embrace all possibilities without trepidation - magic can feel emotions, did you know?

"I'm off track. Basically, the wizarding world split and the two sides have evolved into what we have today - Dark against Light as you hear it, Tradition against its destruction as we see it. Obviously, they have the advantage. We are limited to our families, while recieve new members every year. They have complete control over Hogwarts and outweigh us in the Ministry. Lords for each side have come to pass, but _they_ are winning. _They_ are the majority - they have the political and social advantage. Of course we have more magical power, but that does nothing but add to the fear and the ever growing number of laws against us. Over the years the propaganda has accumulated, especially the past century, although I must admit it is with good cause."

"I presume you mean Voldemort?" Harry asked, cutting into Malfoy's passionate speech.

"The Dark Lord was powerful, thirsty for knowledge, and willing to wage a war against the light - all qualities admired by Old families. Sure he was cruel, but he was willing to vie for our cause, which was what our side needed. I'm not too clear about his past, and you two probably know more than me, but due to an abused childhood at the hand of muggles, he wished to eradicate all traces of them. He was a Dark Lord who preached blood purity, and despite his ignorance of the Old Ways many families joined him. Most Old families don't care about blood purity, but it was close enough and would reach the same goal of preserving our traditions. Eventually some families bought into the blood purity shit he spouted, but I doubt too many were upset when he fell. We aren't interested in torturing muggles or killing muggleborns or groveling at a madman's feet. We wish to recreate the Old world where we were a tight community free of fear and prejudices. But those who have the Dark Mark are unable to escape his servitude. My father and Severus have both been trapped by that wretched mark for years. Severus deflected because his mother was too weak to teach him our ways. My father has done what he can to survive. Of course, there are nutcases like the Lestranges and the Macnairs, but those families have always been known for their cruelty.

"Thanks to Voldemort, and before him Grindelwald, our cause is tarnished with a horrid reputation. Very few people recognize us as the victims that we are. Our world is diminishing so rapidly, I fear my children will only hear of the Old families as a distant legend.

"To put it bluntly, I am courting you both to our cause. Potter, despite being the poster boy for the light, I believe you are more sympathetic to our cause than you let on. I believe you are more than familiar with the fear I speak of. Our side needs you, and not only because Voldemort is a threat to us. Hermione, despite being a muggleborn, you display many characteristics of a member of an old family, with your thirst for knowledge and openness of mind. More so than several I know."

Hermione blushed at the compliment while Harry looked pensive. The three sat in silence until Harry spoke up.

"Are we the only being courted?"

"By me, yes. But others considered worthy should be courted as well. Did you know it is illegal for adoption of muggleborns? Something about corrupting their young, malleable minds. This is our alternative."

"Well, that certainly answers a lot of questions. I appreciate you sharing, Malfoy."

"Yes Draco, we will definitely consider your proposal," Hermione chimed in.

"You two do realize you will need to swear an Unbreakable Vow to keep everything quiet," Malfoy clarified.

"Of course."

Harry and Hermione easily made the vow, making it impossible to discuss such matters to anyone outside a member of an Old family. Hermione made arrangements with Malfoy about their next study session before she and Harry parted with Malfoy. The two made their way back to Gryffindor tower, thoughts weighing heavily on their minds.


	7. Death Eater

Christmas was in the air as Hogwarts prepared for their annual festivities. Trees were put up, decorations were hung, snow fell through the halls, and an unobtrusive jingle was heard around the grounds. The children were all in high spirits, many enjoying the snow outside.

Meanwhile, Harry and Professor Nero were enjoying the end to their last day of classes before winter break. The two had plans to increase the amount spent on their lessons over the break. Harry was excited – he only had one chapter left until they could start new material, and he never tired of his professor's presence. The two chattered about mundane subjects, quite different from their normally intellectually fueled talks.

"I must admit, I love the festival cheer," Nero commented. "Probably because it reminds me of my childhood."

"Do you have family?" Harry asked, not really expecting an answer in return.

"No."

Harry nodded his head in understanding.

"My uncle, in jealousy and spite, singlehandedly murdered my every living family member – I was 13. I think he spent his entire life conceiving a plan to destroy our blood. An absolute genius, he was. I am the only survivor."

The callous words relayed the information so clinically that Harry was taken aback.

"What of your family?"

Harry fidgeted. "I…it's nothing I can't handle."

Nero's gave him a piercing look.

Harry shrugged. "I turn 17 this summer, so it doesn't much matter."

Dark eyes observed him. "I suppose it wouldn't."

* * *

It was curiosity that led Harry to the dusty archives located deep within the library. Of course it would be much easier if he had access to student files, but he had to make due with old newspapers. Flipping through the yellowing pages, he started a few years before Voldemort's fall. It wasn't uncommon for students to end up in the Daily Prophet, and there was always a yearly insert for the graduating class. And given his professor's intelligence, surely he would have warranted an article or two? If anything, it would reveal whether Nero attended Hogwarts.

First he started with the graduation inserts. Skimming through the columns, he searched for his professor's name. No luck. Grabbing the following year, he did the same. His eyes caught on Malfoy Sr., but otherwise the names were foreign to him. The subsequent year held the names of his parents and the Marauders. Heart clenching, he placed the page aside. It wasn't until a few years later that he spotted "Nero, Adolphus." Grinning, Harry marked the year and started searching through the vast accumulation of newspapers.

After an hour of absolutely nothing, Harry felt rather silly in his pursuit. What was he doing stalking his professor like a lovesick girl? Granted, he now knew his professor had graduated 17 years ago, and at the top of his class, but really – how useful was that?

Out of frustration, Harry stopped searching although he continued to flip through the archive, glancing over the front pages. His mood grew somber as the headlines became graver as Voldemort rose in power. He uncomfortably glanced over an article hailing him as a savior with no mention of his parents' sacrifice. Continuing, he saw the cleanup as suspected Death Eaters were sentenced. He recognized Bellatrix, eyes wild and murderous. And Sirius, his expression panicked but defiant. Countless faces that he did not recognize, all sentenced to Azkaban or the Kiss.

That's when he saw one photo that struck him. Astonishingly familiar features stared back at him – the twist of a smile, the tick in his right cheek, wild, translucent eyes that seemed to gaze past Harry and straight into his soul.

Shaky hands abandoned the newspaper as he sunk to the floor. There was no mistaking the resemblance, and the bold headline burned behind closed eyelids: **Death Eater Evan Rosier, Kissed**.

* * *

"Harry, I've been meaning to talk to you about…well, about your sexuality."

Hermione had pulled him aside, carefully warding their spot in the near empty common room.

"I'm sure you've gathered that it's something of a taboo, but I need to make sure you understand the implications."

"About as acceptable as revealing a Dark Mark in polite company, I presume."

Hermione uncomfortably looked down before quietly continued. "It might be best if you pretend to show an interest in girls. I've read up on it, and they do terrible things, Harry. People _disappear_. You can't let anyone suspect. Silence your bed curtains, don't write anything down, and you _have_ to stop looking at Professor Nero like that. Being who you are, they can't just…get rid of you, but they might try to…'fix' you…and…" She trailed off as tears gathered in her eyes.

"I understand, 'Mione" A regretful smile curled his mouth. "I'll be normal."

"There's got to be a way…you're not the only one out there…just…stay strong and if you need anyone to talk to…"

Harry couldn't help but pull Hermione into a warm embrace full of appreciation. He considered mentioning his recent discovery, but given his confusion, he held back. That, and the realization that Ron would never accept him silenced any words in his throat.


	8. Questions

_Hands crept up and down his thighs, caressing, kneading. He felt warmth above him, as his head tilted back into the pillow. Biting his lower lip, Harry shuddered against the firm body. _

_"Harry, open your eyes."_

_Harry refused, arching his back instead so their lower bodies would meet. _

_"Harry, do you deny me?"_

_A frustrated whimpered left Harry's lips as he felt the weight shift away._

_A strong hand cupped his cheek as breath ghosted across his ear. _

_"Harry, do you deny yourself?"_

_Green eyes snapped open to reveal a mocking smirk adorning the sharp features of a stranger – a stranger with lucid blue eyes that chilled him to the core._

_

* * *

_

Classes resumed although the Christmas cheer still reverberated through Hogwart's hallways. Harry thought it a blessing, as classes would distract his mind from it's over analyzing. It had been a rather uneventful two weeks, and his mind had been whirring with accusations and speculations and bewilderment. Poor Hermione could only distract him for so long before another thought, another theory would spark a tangent of unproductive circling logic.

He somehow knew that Professor Nero and the Death Eater Evan Rosier were connected, if not the same person. Harry was sure he sounded crazy, but he just _knew_. Could it be the use of polyjuice? A glamour? Perhaps a possession? The use of imperious? Did that mean Evan Rosier somehow managed to survive the kiss? The questions just managed to compound without any answer in sight.

* * *

Malfoy, Hermione, and Harry were once again lounging in the Room of Requirement. While this was a common occurrence for Draco and Hermione as they continued their study sessions, the addition of Harry was due to the subject at hand. Draco continued with the history of the wizarding world from the "Dark" side's perspective.

"Dumbledore is an interesting case. He used to belong to the Old Families. He was, well he still is for that matter, extremely powerful and our side had great hopes that he would be able to lead us out of oppression. As the story goes, he and Grindelwald were lovers and a fearsome pair. Our side definitely had the advantage, and for the first time in centuries, victory was within our reach, even without bloodshed. Despite his connections to the Old Families, Dumbledore was always popular with the Light because…well, you two know what I'm talking about. Their agenda was mellow - separate our world from the so called Light's so we could have our own exclusive wizarding society. Found a separate school and the like. Many Old Families didn't like the idea, but it was the best option with the ever growing power of the other side. Apparently, Grindelwald didn't care for it either - What good was a superior wizarding society that feared the masses? He started the mass extermination of muggles. It was so easy for Grindelwald to turn muggles against each other by manipulating Hitler in Germany. In the wizarding world, he raised an army to destroy the Light so he could raise a new world for all of Europe. The regime was too extreme for Dumbledore, and our side split. Once Grindelwald was defeated, Dumbledore was hailed as hero of the Light. Some families, such as the Weasleys, got absorbed by the Light and never left. Traitors to their ancestors. Dumbledore probably would have returned to our cause had it not been for the rise of a new Dark Lord bent out on destroying muggles and muggleborns. Our side truly became the Dark for which we were always accused of. Dumbledore is too old now. I doubt he is totally sympathetic to the Light, but his conscience cannot allow innocent blood to be spilt. By the time Voldemort is defeated, he will be of no use to us. You can already tell that he is nearing the end of his natural life. Opinions about him vary. I don't like him, but I can't blame him either. I'm a lot more squeamish than I let on.

"Dumbledore is probably aware that you are being courted. He will not stop it - I should think he would approve as long as the Dark Lord is defeated… Potter, I can tell you are dying to say something. Nothing is stopping you and you've had that dumb look on your face the whole time."

Ignoring the insult, Harry blurted out, "Dumbledore is gay?"

"I shared all of that, and all you care about is if Dumbledore is gay! What does it matter to you, you narrow minded, rude, ungrateful prick! If it wasn't for him, you probably never would have been born! I can't believe you're being so prejudice, just like them! I swear that…" Malfoy abruptly stopped as he noticed the wide grin on Harry's face. "What the hell are you smiling about!"

Hermione just shook her head with a tender smile on her face. Malfoy looked bemused while Harry attempted to hold back the shear relief and happiness he felt bubbling up inside him. He wasn't alone! And Malfoy didn't care that Dumbledore was gay! That meant that he wouldn't care if Harry was! Which meant that there was a whole group of people who couldn't care if he had three heads or five nostrils, least of all if he were gay! And said group of people wasn't evil!

"Um…'Mione? Is Potter right in the head?"

"I'll explain later. Just…let him be. I don't think I've seen him this happy in a while."


	9. Grave Looting

"No, no, no! Harry! What are you thinking! That's…illegal! And so _wrong_! I refuse to let you loot some poor fellow's grave!"

"It's not some poor fellow's. It's Evan Rosier's."

"Still…you…_can't_. What if someone caught you?"

"Trust me, they won't. I have it all worked out. Look it over and if it's unsatisfactory, I'll postpone it." Harry handed Hermione a piece of parchment full of ink blotches and nearly illegible writing.

"What are you trying to accomplish?"

"I need to confirm that he's dead."

"Of course he is! _Madeye Moody_ caught him! He was kissed and his body disposed of!"

"I have a hunch…"

"You're going to break Merlin knows how many rules and laws because you have a _hunch_?" "'Mione, please. Just read it."

Hermione sighed in defeat and started squinting in an attempt to make out his scrawl.

"Of course you actually use that brain of yours for something like this."

"So it's good?"

"It'll work. Wingardium leviosa is a better spell to lift the coffin. You don't want to accio it, just lift. Also, you're forgetting to cast deleo. If not, your magical signature will remain. Other than that…I can't find a problem with it. And I'm going with you. As acceptable as this plan is, I don't trust things to go so smoothly."

"I expected as much." Harry looked smug.

"How do you even know apparation? Never mind – don't answer that. And you want to go tonight? You could have given me warning."

"But then you'd have time to talk me out of it."

Hermione shook her head in false exasperation. "Wipe that look off your face, you smug bastard." The smile on her face betrayed her words.

* * *

The pair stayed awake studying until the common room was cleared out. Harry ran to get his invisibility cloak before the two made their way to the hunchbacked witch. They made the trek to Honeyduke's in a silence full of trepidation. Without bothering to go through the hatch, they prepared to apparate.

"Grab my arm and we'll go."

"I can manage it myself, you know," Hermione replied.

Harry gave her a questioning look.

"Draco taught me…," Hermione replied with a blush that was visible thanks to their lumos.

Harry merely shook his head and pulled out the photo he had ripped out of _An Archive of England's Burial Grounds_.

"I'll see you in a sec."

A couple of pops later, and Harry and Hermione stood outside the formidable gates of Festing Cemetery. Harry made for the gate.

"Wait. Don't touch the gates. They'll know we're here. I forgot that wizarding cemeteries are careful to track who goes in and out because of people like you. That and the danger of leaving spare parts around to be used for rituals."

"Oh. I knew there was a reason you came with."

Hermione nudged Harry for the jibe before frowning in thought.

"I wonder if we can get through by masking our identities…This is a light cemetery, so the spell I know should work…" Hermione trailed off.

"I wonder why he's buried here. He should be in his family cemetery."

"Probably because he's the last of the Rosier family – no one to take care of the body after Moody did him in. Actually, he's lucky he got a grave. I'm surprised they didn't just burn the body," Hermione responded as she went about preparing for the ritual to mask their identities. Draco had thought her the spell during one of their meetings.

"Here, cut your hand with this. By offering our blood to the earth, our presence will be recognized as nothing more than a couple of leaves or the like."

Following Hermione's lead, Harry did just that – he offered a few drops, one for each hour he wished to be protected and repeated the chant.

"Levitate me over the gate and I'll do the same for you," Hermione ordered.

"Magic is ok?"

Hermione nodded the affirmative.

"That's bloody brilliant."

The two quickly made their way through the tomb stones. High on adrenaline, they raced to find the appropriate name.

"Got it, 'Mione. Over here."

The grave was small, plain with EVAN ROSIER carved in skeletal letters. It was clearly the cheapest setup in the cemetery.

A quick digging charm and wingardium leviosa later, Harry started to slide his fingers around the ledge of the simple casket. He easily pried the top off the rotting box. Hermione stood by, but looked positively ill. Once the small coffin was opened, Harry brightened his lumos to peep inside.

Inside was not a body of any sort. A set of robes were flattened against the floor of the casket. He bravely put his hand in while Hermione let out a faint gasp. Fishing around through the fabric, Harry's hand caught on a strip of…was that leather? He pulled it out to examine the rather large piece of…it wasn't quite leather…it was twisted and hardened.

"Harry – what the hell is that…?" Hermione sounded panicked, her voice shaking.

"It's…I honestly don't know, but I'm keeping it."

"Let's go, Harry…I'm starting to feel rather ill."

Harry did a quick check to makes sure he hadn't missed anything in the coffin and proceeded to repair the lid. The cleanup was quick and quiet.

"We can apparate from here. 'Mione…why don't you grab my arm. You don't look well."

A weak nod was Hermione's only response and Harry put his arm around her shoulders.

A quick spell to ensure no magical signature remained and the two were back in the tunnel under Honeyduke's.

"C'mon, 'Mione. We're almost done. Do you want me to call Malfoy so he can valiantly offer you a ride back to his castle on his white stag?" Harry teased to lighten her spirit.

"Oh shut up."

"Here, let me carry you."

Despite feeling exhausted now that his adrenaline had run out, Harry cast a quick lightening charm and easily convinced the usually proud and self sufficient Hermione to be carried on his back. The trek back was slow as Harry was careful to hold onto both Hermione and his find.

"We'll meet with Draco tomorrow, ok?" Hermione slurred. It had to be well into the morning.

"Of course. I understand – any reason to see him, right?"

"Mhmm, yeah. He…he's really nice, you know."

Harry smiled. "Yeah. I know."

* * *

"Malfoy, 'Mione and I need to talk to you about something pretty top-secret and rather significant. We went to Evan Rosier's grave last night and found something rather peculiar in his coffin."

In typical Malfoy fashion, the boy blew up, hands dramatically flying and eyes unbelievably large. (Who knew the stone cold Prince of Slytherin was so damn animate?)

"You two did WHAT! That's incomprehensively _wrong!_ What if you were caught! How many laws did you two break! They'll cart you away to Azkaban! That's beyond Dark! _Dark wizards _don't even loot graves! What the hell did you expect to find? Imagine the consequences of…"

"Hermione's naked," Harry cut in. The reaction was immediate - Malfoy abandoned his rant as his head jerked towards Hermione's direction. Both victims turned a brilliant shade of red. Hermione glared at Harry while a flicker of disappointment crossed Malfoy's face.

"Was that necessary?" Hermione snapped, still suffering from her embarrassment.

"Everything I do is necessary," Harry replied with mock seriousness, complete with a stance to show just how necessary it was. "We were getting off track. Besides, Malfoy's face is such a lovely color - matches our house, actually."

"Now who's off track," Malfoy cut in, his tone haughtier than usual in an attempt to recover from the incident. "You don't have to be so cheerful about being a grave looter."

"Ah, but I do! My suspicions were confirmed. Not a single trace of a body. Instead I found this." Harry pulled the piece out of his bag, carefully placing it on a desk.

Malfoy immediately blanched, his face completely serious. Hermione, who had not seen the piece the night before, turned a rather peculiar shade of green. Only Harry seemed to be excited and rather cheerful about the discovery.

"Evan Rosier's grave, right?"

A nod in response from both Harry and Hermione.

"And this was all that was in the casket?"

"Casket implies that someone gave a damn - it was a wooden box. There were robes as well, but I left those." Harry's reply.

Malfoy nodded, and carefully touched the material.

"It's not leather, but it makes me think of it," Harry offered.

"That's because it's human skin."

Hermione sat down, looking very feint. Harry still looked happy.

"But that just further confirms it. Rosier isn't dead. I was right."

"Yes you were right, but that means we have a madman running about without anyone's knowledge!" Malfoy shouted, sounding rather angry and frustrated. Harry's continued cheerfulness was driving him into a rage. "Don't you understand the danger of this situation! Everyone has thought Rosier to be dead for over a decade and a half. And thanks to your reckless need to confirm some insane theory, the three of us now know that he is not dead, but very much alive with extremely formidable abilities."

"There's no need for panic. Besides, I think I know how to find him."

Hermione whimpered and Malfoy looked disturbed. Malfoy gave up trying to knock any sense into Harry and instead moved to Hermione's side to offer her support.

"I don't care how heroic the Light makes you out to be. Potter, you are beyond deranged."

Harry merely shrugged and started pulling apart the folds of what he now knew to be human skin. Slowly he unfolded the piece until it was relatively flat. A lock of hair tied together by a faded, threadbare ribbon fell out from between the folds. The piece of skin was about the width and length of the desk top with dark brown stains on one side. Harry noticed it was a rune.

"Malfoy, what does this mean?"

"Mannaz - man," came Malfoy's clipped reply from where he had Hermione in a half hug, one hand stroking her back in a comforting gesture.

"Hm…so he created a clone of sorts and let that get killed by Moody. And he's been in hiding ever since…Now that doesn't explain those eyes. Not pollyjuice, not imperious…Dumbledore said so…"

"Potter, please, I don't want to know. You are demented."

"That's no way to treat me if you want me on your side," Harry teased.

"I already know you are. You reek of wild magic."

Harry just looked at Malfoy with a strange expression before returning his focus on the skin, quietly muttering under his breath. The three stayed in the abandoned classroom until dinner, Harry deep in thought with Hermione now sleeping as Malfoy softly stroked her hair.


	10. Developments

It was early Monday morning as the famous Golden Trio sat down at the Gryffindor table. The tension was nearing its breaking point between the three. While Harry and Hermione partook in their clandestine adventures against the Light, Ron had been the odd one out. It was not intentional, but the two already knew that Ron was too ingrained in his beliefs to come anywhere close to understanding.

Ron seemed to be adapting fine, however. With Harry no longer on the Quidditch team, Ron, no longer overshadowed, had grown in popularity amongst his teammates. His best mates now were Dean and Seamus from their dormitory, and he had recently been seen chatting up Lavender Brown. It was merely times like these when the trio made an attempt to recreate the impression of everlasting friendship when things got awkward. After 15 minutes of small talk, Ron seemed to have had enough.

"It's alright, you know? I understand that you two have something, and I'm ok with that. I wish you would have told me sooner, but I also understand that you wanted to avoid any awkwardness. I'll admit that I was upset at first, but I've done some thinking. I'm not going to mess up anything you two have, and I get that naturally you want to spend all your time with each other. Trust me, the same is with me and Lav, although we aren't dating yet." He noticed the bemused expressions on each of their faces. "You two are dating, right?"

A quick glance at Hermione and a split decision later, Harry answered.

"Yeah, we are. I was hoping it wasn't so obvious, but I guess it was stupid for trying to hide it from you. Forgive us for not saying anything, but we didn't want you to feel excluded or anything. No hard feelings?" Harry did his best to look bashful.

"Nah, I totally understand. No hard feelings."

The breakfast conversation resumed, a lot less awkwardly for all three despite the excuse being a total lie. Harry desperately hoped that Hermione would not kill him and that he would not come to regret his decision. He nervously awaited the girl's reaction, especially since the conversation was held in such a public place. No use asking Ron to try and keep it quiet, now that half the school was shooting them glances. He was also a bit nervous as to how Malfoy was going to take it. Harry knew the other boy harbored feelings for Hermione, and the back of his neck prickled from the deadly glare shot at him from the Slytherin table.

"Well, Hermione and I were going to study before class, so I'll see you later Ron. Thanks for understanding - it means a lot to both of us." Harry felt a little nauseous at the sappiness of the conversation. He grasped Hermione's hand to keep up appearances.

"No problem mate. See you in DADA."

* * *

The pair barely made it out of the Great Hall and into an abandoned classroom before the door banged open and Malfoy stormed in. He looked absolutely livid, and Harry felt nervous at having seriously underestimated the extent of the blonde's affection for Hermione.

"Who the hell do you think you are! All this time, you thought it was funny, huh? You thought it would be right hilarious to watch me fall for 'Mione while all the while you planned to keep her to yourself, didn't you! Just because you're powerful, doesn't mean you can take her away from me!" Malfoy had Harry backed against a wall. Harry was still a bit in shock, as was Hermione who was looking hopelessly between the two. Malfoy continued. "I didn't believe it at first. 'Mione wouldn't do that to me…I refuse to believe that 'Mione would do that to me. But you took her hand. Only I'm allowed to take her hand like that! Do you understand! I don't care that you are our boy wonder, I will make your life hell!"

"You should call me Harry. May I call you Draco?"

Malfoy looked ready to punch him, but Hermione approached the two and placed her body between them.

"Draco?" Malfoy looked down at Hermione, momentarily forgetting about Harry. "Harry and I aren't together. At all."

"Then why…?" Despite sounding so desolate, he looked hopeful.

"It's what Ron assumed. Harry went with it, and I don't think it's such a bad idea. It'll give Harry and me an alibi so we can easily disappear without raising suspicions. It'll also make it easier for us to blend in with the other side for the time being. It would be suspicious if people were to know about you, and this will divert attention away from me and especially Harry. He needs any protection he can get…"

"Oh. I guess that makes sense. Um…Sorry about attacking you...Harry. Yeah, I guess it's about time we stopped using surnames."

"Glad to hear it," Harry smiled back. He was relieved that he had not ruined whatever Draco and Hermione had.

"If you don't mind me asking, why do you need to divert attention?"

A soft pink dusted Harry's cheeks. He knew he could ignore the questions, but he trusted Malfoy and answering would alleviate any doubts the boy had.

"What you feel for 'Mione…."

"You're crushing on Professor Nero? Shit, I did not see that coming. If you were going to give the Light another reason to hate you, couldn't you have picked someone a little more glamorous?"

"Believe what you will. I have high expectations of him."

Draco shot him a confused look at the odd response, but did not press the matter. Of a more important issue, Hermione was still standing in front of him. Draco suddenly flushed as he recalled how he bluntly admitted his feelings towards her moments before.

"Um…about what I said…I did mean it…although I understand if you want me to take it back…I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or anything. Nothing has to change if you don't want it to…although if you do, I would be more than happy…overjoyed, really…"

"For such a pureblood snob, you sure are a blundering fool." Hermione's voice was tender, but Draco, fearing the worse, turned his head and tried to play it off. So he did not notice Hermione's reaction until a kiss was planted firmly on his lips. It was nothing more than a quick meeting of lips, but it had its desired effect. Looking slightly dazed with a surprised smile on his face, Draco cupped Hermione's cheek and bent down for another.

At this point Harry smiled and left the classroom. He would let those two finally work out their feelings for one another. All in all it was a very good morning, and his first class had not even started.

* * *

Because DADA was his first class, he made his way up to the classroom despite it being nearly half an hour early. (What was it with people being up so early this morning? Usually everyone was rushing to make it to class, sometimes still in pajamas.) Unsurprisingly, Professor Nero was at the front of the room copying the lesson's notes on the board.

"Mister Potter, what brings you here so early?"

"Hermione and Draco finally admitted what they feel for each other," Harry offered in explanation.

Professor Nero chuckled. "It's about time, I'd say. How long have those two been looking at each other?"

"Months, really. Unbelievable how long it took."

"The beauty of youthful romance. You might want to find yourself someone as well - as young as you think you are now, if you wait around forever you'll be an old man alone in a creaky house."

Harry opted to make a joke out of it rather than acknowledge that his object of affection was advising him to seek company elsewhere.

"Haven't you heard? The boy wonder is so great that he has a designated partner chosen by the Gods. He will know of his partner's arrival by shining bright light and an angel's warble."

"Such a distinguished boy - it takes all my strength to keep myself from groveling at your feet," Professor Nero joked back. "And speaking of your great talent, I believe you will be rather pleased to know that tonight we will start your animagus transformation. I know you've been dying to get to this part."

Harry broke out into a grin as the conversation shifted to that of animagus. Hermione would be so jealous, although he had a sneaking suspicion she and Draco were already working on it in their private lessons - why else would she have notes of detailed animal sketches?

Today was a very good day indeed. Maybe he should make a habit of waking up earlier if this was to be the outcome.


End file.
